The Master Plan
by Jemmiah
Summary: Can QuiGon survive life as a padawan...with ObiWan as his master?


"Master, that's not fair."

"You have to learn some discipline."

"But I am disciplined."

"Not enough, it would seem. Where's that Geography assignment I asked for?"

"Well…"

"Have you finished it?"

"Not exactly." Obi-Wan replied sullenly, fixing Qui-Gon with an openly rebellious look.

"And why is it not finished?"

Obi-Wan sighed. There would be no point in lying because Qui-Gon would read him like an open book.

"I wanted to sit out in the gardens. It was such a lovely evening and…"

"You decided that chatting with Simeon Cates and Zak V'Aladee was of more importance."

"Not more important. I just felt I had to…" Obi-Wan's voice trailed off. "I'm not winning, am I master?" He mumbled ruefully.

Qui-Gon straightened up. "You're too old for physical discipline, so I am going to teach you a lesson you will remember. That trip to the amusement park?"

"M-master?" Obi-Wan stammered.

"Guess what. CANCELLED." Qui-Gon smiled at his padawan. "It might teach you to prioritize in future."

"But master," Obi-Wan protested as Qui-Gon walked towards the refrigeration unit, "That's not fair!"

"Are you questioning my judgement?" Jinn replied with a glint in his eye that told the apprentice to back down a little.

"No…not really. But there must be some times when you are wrong. I mean, even a Jedi can't be right all the time."

Qui-Gon regarded the misery on his padawan's face. Maybe the punishment was a little severe but the boy had to learn. He was fifteen years of age and mostly well-behaved and studious, but recently Qui-Gon had felt the need to draw attention to Obi-Wan's wavering attention span.

He was hitting that age. The one that caused hormones to rage out of control. Qui-Gon remembered it all to well himself…

"Nobody is perfect, Obi-Wan. Not even myself. On a few rare occasions I have been known to make mistakes."

"Well, no disrespect intended master, but I think this may be one of them."

Qui-Gon was about to open his mouth when he became aware of another presence in the room.

"Master Jinn is ALWAYS right, aren't you?" Jemmiah grinned at Qui-Gon. "Do you really think you could do any better?"

Obi-Wan frowned at the Corellian girl. She was normally his staunchest ally in all matters and to see her back up Qui-Gon in this way left Obi-Wan feeling strangely vulnerable.

Until he saw her slow wink.

"Er…yes." Obi-Wan said suddenly, talking Qui-Gon by surprise. "I think so. I'd be a really good master."

"Sounds like a challenge, Master Jinn," Jemmiah walked over and held onto Qui-Gon's arm, "so why don't you take him up on it?"

"Pardon?" Jinn wondered if he'd heard right.

"Swap roles for a day. See who copes with it better. Obi-Wan can be the master and you can be the padawan again."

Qui-Gon was astonished at the suggestion but it did present him with the perfect opportunity to show Obi-Wan what hard work and discipline really was. If he were a betting man he would take odds at his padawan getting down on his knees before the afternoon was over and begging forgiveness. The idea was very tempting…

Jemmiah watched as Qui-Gon's thoughts were relayed to her by a series of subtle facial gestures. He was thinking just how easy this would be.

He obviously hadn't put her in the equation at all.

"Very well. I accept." He reached out a hand to shake on the deal, which Obi-Wan took suspiciously. His master looked altogether too confident.

He hoped Jemmiah knew what she was doing.

"Maybe we'll all learn something from this." Jemmy smiled impishly.

******************************

"What in blazes do you think you are doing?" Qui-Gon ran through to the living area, bleary-eyed. The thump-thump-thump of some sort of modern music had woken him up from what had been a very pleasant dream. He'd been recollecting the time when he and Dex had bought Mace a red, braided wig for his birthday, which Windu had tried to get rid of by boiling it in the caldron in the refectory kitchens. It hadn't worked of course.

The cook had thought some animal had got loose and drowned itself in the soup…

Jinn's eyes strained to make out the figures on the wall chrono.

Five in the morning.

"IT'S FIVE IN THE MORNING!" Yelled Qui-Gon, pointing at the clock. Jemmiah just stared back at him, the picture of perfect innocence.

"Pardon?" She cupped her hand to her ear as she bounced up and down in time to the beat.

"I said," Qui-Gon cut off the power and stopped the music suddenly, "It's five in the morning!"

"I was listening to that!"

"I should imagine the whole of the temple was listening!" Qui-Gon looked very annoyed.

Jemmiah tried a softer approach.

"But Obi-Wan said I could!" She looked at the floor.

"Did he?" Jinn took the piece of information in. 

"He said that seeing as he was the master and you were the padawan, he could do what he wanted."

Qui-Gon blinked. "What do you mean, he is the master…?"

Suddenly it came back to him with horrifying clarity.

"Ah, there you are padawan!" Obi-Wan smiled and rubbed his hands together as he entered the room. "I hope you slept well."

"I did, until some idiot woke me up with what I hate to call music of some loose description."

"That's a pity." Obi-Wan said. "Because you're going to need all your strength for all the many tasks I've got you down for."

"Tasks? Wait a minute…"

"First of all, you can tidy my room." Obi-Wan smirked.

"I am NOT doing your work!" Qui-Gon was adamant.

"Who's the master round here?" Obi-Wan frowned.

Qui-Gon gritted his teeth. 

"You are." He said without moving his lips.

"It will be good discipline for you." Kenobi made a run across the polished floor and skidded across it, finishing up besides the toaster.

"I've always wanted to do that!" He grinned. "Now I'm the master I s'pose I can do what I want."

"You've forgotten one thing, padaw…Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon corrected himself in time.

"Which is?"

"What about that report I'm scheduled to give to the council? Who's going to do that? I mean, that's a job for the master."

"Guess what. CANCELLED." Smiled Obi-Wan as he put some sliced Alderaani bread into the toasting machine.

"What!" Exclaimed Jinn.

"I had a word with master Yoda about our little arrangement and he agreed with me," he said as he unscrewed the jar of Corelli treacle, "that under the circumstance the report could wait."

Damn! Trust Yoda to poke his stick in where it wasn't wanted!

"Anyhow," Kenobi continued, "we are having breakfast. I've got your day all mapped out for you. First off, you are going to tidy my room. Second, you will tidy Jemmy's room…"

"NO!" Qui-Gon replied.

"What's wrong with my room?" Jemmiah frowned.

"It stinks of that horrible White Corellian Orchid spray. It's like the perfume counter of some huge department store. You need a breath mask to be able to survive in there. And that one eyed toy Gundark gives me the creeps…"

"But it will be a good lesson. Think on it as a positive experience." Obi-Wan didn't bat an eyelid at his master's glare.

No. His padawan's glare!

"Then you have an essay on the life cycle of the Madalese Emperor Toad."

"Why?"

"Because it's the most pointless thing I could come up with." Kenobi's cheeks dimpled. "Jemmy. Get those cream cakes out the fridge, would you?"

"Yesssssir, master!" Jemmy threw him a salute. "Coming right up, master!"

"Cream cakes for breakfast!" Qui-Gon's jaw dropped in shock.

"Oh, yes. And lunch. And infact we might have cream cakes for evening meal, too." Obi-Wan nodded. "If there's any left, which I doubt, we can have them for supper!"

"This has gone too far." Qui-Gon snapped as Jemmiah began to slide elongated chocolate cream cakes down the work surface as if they were torpedoes. She grabbed one for herself and started to devour it with great relish.

"Won't you join us for breakfast, padawan?" Obi-Wan chuckled.

Qui-Gon surveyed the little scene with a shake of the head.

"I hope you never have a padawan of your own."

"So do I. Then I can do this all the time." Kenobi's chocolate stained teeth flashed at him.

"You are making a big mistake, Obi-Wan. I'm telling you."

"Sorry, I thought for a moment my padawan was challenging my judgement." Obi-Wan was beginning to enjoy himself.

Qui-Gon grumbled and made his way to Obi-Wan's bedroom.

"And empty the washing basket while you're there, would you? It's not been touched for a while and I should think the socks have probably grown feet of their own by now."

Qui-Gon was about to shout back something about taking liberties when the music cut back in.

Obi-Wan was going to regret this day for the rest of his life. Qui-Gon would see to that…

*******************************

"Finished." Qui-Gon came through with his mouth and nose covered in a silk scarf. Jemmiah's room had been an experience he was not keen to repeat in a hurry.

"Good," said Obi-Wan as he munched on his eighth cream cake, "you can start on that essay."

"I need a break." Qui-Gon threw himself down into the comfy chair.

Jemmiah blinked.

"Your padawan is sitting in my chair." She pointed.

"It's not your chair. It's my chair, Tangles."

"Actually, it's my chair." Obi-Wan said, "and I'm letting Jemmy have it."

Qui-Gon gritted his teeth.

"Fine. Give me a cream cake and I'll go and start that essay."

"Uh-uh." Jemmiah smiled. "They are OUR cream cakes. We bought them with your hard-earned money. You will be going to the refectory to eat."

"But it's nearly twelve!" Qui-Gon pointed at the chrono again. "That's lunch hour for the padawans!"

"Exactly." Jemmiah snickered. "You are his padawan," she jerked her head back at Obi-Wan. "So you'll have to sit besides all the other youngsters."

"No way." Jinn refused.

"Then you'll have to starve, I'm afraid." Obi-Wan shrugged. "Life's Sith when you're a padawan, isn't it?" 

Qui-Gon collected the datapad for his essay and walked sulkily to the door. When Obi-Wan wasn't looking, Jemmiah handed Qui-Gon a jam doughnut.

Well, at least one of them has a conscience, thought Jinn as he opened the door.

"And I want that essay by three this afternoon, or you'll be scrubbing the temple floors." Kenobi called.

*******************************

When Qui-Gon was away, Obi-Wan and Jemmiah sat relaxing on the floor.

"Don't you think we were a tiny bit too hard on him?" Jemmy asked.

"He's got to learn. It may be hard being a master but I think he's forgotten how darned difficult it is to be a padawan again." Obi-Wan said with his mouth full of chocolate. "Have another cake."

Jemmiah looked somewhat ill. "I don't think I can."

"Sure you can. And we've got all those to get through when he comes back!" Kenobi pointed at he cake mountain that lay on the kitchen table.

Jemmiah closed her eyes. "I want to live to see my eleventh birthday."

"I've got just the thing to wash it down with." Obi-Wan jumped up to his feet. "Those bottles of Florizan wine that one of the crèche masters brought back from vacation. Qui-Gon says they're too strong for his taste so they've been lying around in those racks gathering dust. We'll be doing him a favor."

"I couldn't." Jemmy shook her head.

"Of course you can. You're Corellian. You have an inbuilt natural tolerance for all kinds of strong drink."

"I do?"

"It's a well known fact." Obi-Wan went over to the rack and pulled out two bottles, using the force to uncork them.

"Are you sure about this?" Jemmy asked. "I've got a real bad feeling that…"

"Don't worry." Obi-Wan said, eyeing another pastry, "I've got everything under control. Trust me."

Jemmiah raised an eyebrow. 

"I hate it when people say that." She said.

****************************

Qui-Gon had enjoyed one of the most interesting meals of his life in the refectory. It reminded him of exactly why he never ate down here in the first place unless he could help it.

Actually, enjoyed wasn't the correct word to use in this instance.

His essay had been completed on time, with half an hour to spare. He had thought of arriving triumphantly and flaunting the thing under Obi-Wan's nose to show him what a clever person he was, but backed away from the idea when he realized that Kenobi would almost certainly find some menial task for him to do to fill in that spare thirty minutes.

When the time was up he had ventured back to his apartment, expecting to hear the thumping music heralding his approach. Instead, everything was deadly quiet.

Frowning, Qui-Gon opened the door.

The site that met him was one of a giggling, hiccuping Obi-Wan lying amidst the debris of sweet wrappers, empty cake packets, plasti-bags and more worryingly several empty bottles lying on their side.

Also on her side was Jemmiah, who looked distinctly intoxicated.

"What in hell has happened here?" Jinn shouted as he made his way through the garbage on the floor.

"Oh…hello." Obi-Wan waved at Qui-Gon.

"You're drunk…you are BOTH DRUNK!" Jinn hissed.

"Sssshhh!" Kenobi put a silencing finger to his lips. "She's having a sleep."

"I'll say she's having a sleep!" Qui-Gon bent down over the prone figure. "She's senseless!" 

"She can put it away for someone her age." Obi-Wan agreed, face screwed up as his headache began to kick in full swing.

"She's only ten years old!" Exclaimed Qui-Gon.

"I know. I was impressed. She had at least five bottles of the stuff to herself." Obi-Wan added with a slight belch. "Anyway, I'm glad you're back."

"Does this mean you've learned the error of your ways and agree to swap back?"

"No…It means I'd like you to tidy up all the mess." Obi-Wan said in a slightly dazed tone. "And whilst you're at it, you might as well carry Jemmy to her room. I tried to drag her through by the ankles but I didn't get very far as you can -HIC- see."

Qui-Gon said nothing, merely scooping up the unprotesting figure of the Corellian girl and carrying her through to her bedroom. 

*****************************

There was a knock on Qui-Gon's door later that night.

"Erm…excuse me master?" Obi-Wan said, staggering a little as Qui-Gon bid him into the room.

"Master, is it? Not padawan?"

Obi-Wan looked at the floor.

"How's the headache?" Jinn continued. "Any better?"

"N-not really, no."

"And have you learned anything from today?"

"Yes, I have." Obi-Wan grimaced. "When someone asks you for an essay, do it on time."

"Good." Qui-Gon smiled and put down the book he was reading. "Now you see the need for the discipline I was telling you about earlier. But something tells me that wasn't the reason you came to speak to me. Was there something else?"

Obi-Wan nodded and regretted it the moment the pain shot through his skull.

"Jemmy's just been violently sick all over her bed."

"I'm really sorry about that." Qui-Gon mused. "You'll find fresh linen and bedding in the airing cupboard. The bucket and shovel are lying around somewhere. If you search for them I'm sure you'll find them."

"But…" Obi-Wan replied.

"It's still one hour until tomorrow morning. You are still the master. You see Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon sat up, "a master's charge is a sacred one. There's a lot of good and some not so good mixed in with the responsibility. That covers illness and hand holding when the occasion demands. Now, there's one very sick young lady through there, young Master Kenobi."

Qui-Gon switched out the lights and turned on his side, hoping that Obi-Wan wouldn't see him smile.

"In other words, get cleaning."


End file.
